


Rattled

by FrivolousSuits



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fake Marriage, M/M, Marvey Fic Challenges, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 15:52:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11489664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrivolousSuits/pseuds/FrivolousSuits
Summary: A fic from Harvey’s perspective aboutthe S05E14 scenewhere Rachel perjures herself in a mock trial by claiming she's already married to Mike. Features a larger dose of Marvey pining than is strictly healthy for Harvey’s psyche.Written for Marvey Fic Challenge #74— “Perjury."





	Rattled

“Objection.”

“Your honor, the witness cannot object to testifying simply because she intends to take the fifth—”

“The witness doesn’t have to testify because she’s my wife.”

And for all his eloquence, all his years of prosecutorial experience, Harvey can only respond, “What _?_ ”

* * *

 

_What?_

Mike pulls out a marriage certificate from the goddamn state of Nevada, and immediately the lawyering part of Harvey’s brain shudders back to life, screaming “perjury.” They’re going to claim the marriage was the result of a Vegas fling, possibly enhanced by copious amounts of alcohol, but that their relationship gradually turned into something more serious, and now they’re having a real wedding— a fake wedding? a renewal?— to formalize it for the world.

Harvey knows the entire game from their first move, and yet he’s stunned, eyes darting back and forth between them. _  
_

_What if it’s real?_

The moment the thought strikes, he doubles down on his own deceptions, reverting to his well-practiced poker face. The deadness in his eyes reads as condescension.

“Where the hell did you get that?”

“What do you mean?”

Mike sounds perfectly innocent, and a touch of malice sneaks into Harvey’s reply. “You didn’t marry her, and you know it.”

They approach Jessica’s podium, still sniping at one another, Mike accusing him of pulling his own share of stunts. “Oh, look who’s crying about it now.”

Jessica snaps at them, saving Harvey from pointing out with a little too much zeal how he’s not crying.

“You wanted to rattle me,” Mike murmurs. “Now I’ve rattled you. What are you going to do about it?”

Harvey says nothing, just goes back to his desk to do his goddamn job.

* * *

 

“Now I’ve rattled you.” _  
_

_Kid, you have no idea_.

Truth is Harvey’s thought about pulling the same spousal privilege stunt himself from time to time, whenever the threat of losing attorney-client privilege has crept up too close. If Tanner had actually succeeded in disbarring him a couple years back, Harvey might have bought Mike a ring that very night, initiating yet another fraud to cover up their original one. If this second deception had a bit more truth to it, well, only he’d have to know that.

Then he turns to Rachel, who takes the stand and watches him so coolly even as he slanders her, and wonders if this current fake marriage was her idea in the first place.

* * *

 

“When spousal privilege is invoked in the moment, prosecution has the right to challenge the validity of the marriage.”

Harvey relishes that phrase— “challenge the validity of the marriage”— more than he strictly should, but he tells himself it’s because his well-honed prosecutorial instincts are roaring to life. It’s simply his prosecutorial instincts that tell him to close in on Rachel and shred her.

“What color was the dress? What color was the cake? Who was there?” Harvey spits out each question like a bullet, and he only speeds up when she looks around in alarm, when Mike leaps in to protect her. “Were there any witnesses? Who were the witnesses? And what goddamn time was it, tell me right now—”

“Harvey,” Jessica cuts in, “let the witness answer.”

Something freezes in Rachel’s eyes, and when she speaks her words are calm, measured, the very opposite of his. “The dress was white, and the cake was vanilla with a buttercream frosting. It was a small ceremony at around 10 P.M., and I remember the man who married us like it was yesterday . . .”

And the flame in Harvey’s eyes starts dying down as she speaks. His shoulders roll forward. His chin falls. Surely he is merely annoyed that he hasn’t yet fazed her. Surely he’s not imagining this fictional ceremony as she describes it, surely the scene’s not replacing a wedding he’s drawn up in his own mind, admittedly even less plausible than this—

“Because it was the most special day of my life.” She says the words with a saccharine half-smile that Harvey wouldn’t buy even if he wanted to.

“And when you came up with this story, did Mister Ross at least give you the courtesy of letting you make up your own memories of your supposedly sacred day? Since if he represents himself at trial you won’t have a real wedding for at least two to five years.”

Jessica warns him. “Harvey—”

But Mike might go to prison, Rachel and her goddamn tricks might directly _send_ Mike to prison, and Harvey’s done standing by while people he loves get destroyed. He doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore, doesn’t even let Rachel answer his last question, just follows his gut. “And I’ve got one more question. Did you vow to remain faithful to Mister Ross throughout your marriage?”

There’s distress on Rachel’s face, the first genuine emotion he’s gotten out of her all day, as she insists that she did.

“Yeah, then I guess when you cheated on him with Logan Sanders it means you lied to him at that non-existent ceremony, just like you’re lying to all of us right now!”

The rage in his voice shocks even him.

In the next moment Jessica is shutting him down, Rachel is blinking too hard, stunned into silence, and Mike is— Harvey doesn’t turn to look. Instead, he watches Rachel, trying to identify her emotions. Guilt? Regret? No, more like mortification at having her dalliance so publicly exposed.

He can’t look at Mike, not right now, so he glances at Jessica, who matches his stare, an odd expression on her face. He suddenly suspects that the main secrets this cross-examination uncovered were his own.

* * *

 

He can’t help turning the cross over in his head, all through the night. As a more than competent lawyer, he recognizes the flaws in his line of questioning— there were sounder grounds for proving Rachel’s perjury. He could have pressed her for copies of their Vegas plane tickets. He could have searched county records for the marriage license. He probably could have just checked the date on the license and looked at his own calendar and proved that, no, Mike was in the office during his supposed Vegas visit, that he was working on some case for Harvey.

But Harvey admits with a grimace that the questions he asked weren’t professional to him— they were personal, the way everything he does ends up personal where Mike’s involved. And on some personal level he doesn’t usually acknowledge, he wishes he had pursued that line of questioning down the black hole where it inevitably leads. _  
_

_Tell me, Rachel, how soon until you cheat and make a fool of him again?_ _  
_

_Tell me, Rachel, if you found out you could go to prison instead of him, how fast would you run the other way?_ _  
_

_Tell me, Rachel, do you really understand your so-called soulmate? Do you get his sense of humor? Do you know what he’s thinking before he does? Can you tear his plans apart and fix the flaws and build them back up so they’re goddamn perfect?_ _  
_

_Tell me, Rachel, is it just the fairy tale of a princess finally marrying her pauper-turned-prince that you like, or are you really in love with_ him _?_ _  
_

_Tell me, Rachel, that you and Mike have special moments. That you have inside jokes. Tell me that you sometimes smile at him, and he smiles back, and nobody but you will quite know why. Convince me that there are secrets that only you two will ever share. That you’ll put him above yourself. Convince me that he’ll be happy with you.  
_

_Prove it, Rachel. Prove it to me._

* * *

 

_Tell me, Rachel, when you came up with this gambit, were you intending to cut out my heart?  
_

_Tell me, Rachel, did you know how this would rattle me?_


End file.
